


The Official Semi-Centennial Covert Ancestral Monument Observance and Survey

by nonplussed



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chocobros - Freeform, Fix-It, M/M, OT4, by pretending it never happened, evntually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 07:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17678720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonplussed/pseuds/nonplussed
Summary: The King of Lucis dies, you say? And so does everyone in Insomnia? And then the sun, and then some of the Astrals--no, no Prompto, shut up. You've played too many RPGs.AKA the fic where I pretend nothing terrible happened, and they're just road tripping all over Eos.





	The Official Semi-Centennial Covert Ancestral Monument Observance and Survey

The Official Semi-Centennial Covert Ancestral Monument Observance and Survey—or, as Prompto had immediately taken to calling it, the Undercover! Road! Trip!—had gone on long enough that they had to either learn to find each other entertaining, or end up killing each other. Days like these, Ignis wondered if killing wasn't the better option, if only for the Kingdom's karmic well-being.

“And then Insomnia gets plunged into darkness—no wait, the whole world gets plunged into darkness! Forever! Only the Chosen King and his loyal friends can save the world!” Prompto declaimed, kneeling up in the front seat in blatant disregard of basic road safety. Ignis eyed the road ahead, an empty, gently winding stretch that just begged to be taken with the speed and control he knew the Regalia had in her. Then he imagined the headlines, if he hit a pothole—not entirely unlikely, given how irregularly roads were maintained outside the Wall—and Prompto ended up bumped right out the car. _Commoner Killed in Road Accident, Prince in Mourning. Prince Undertakes Major Roadworks in Neutral Territory, Niflheim Threatens Retaliation._ His foot twitched on the accelerator, but he kept the Regalia going steadily just under the speed limit.

“Am I the Chosen King now?” Noctis asked, entirely unconcerned by the global devastation Prompto described, “I'm only a prince, you know.”

“Right, right, the Chosen Prince and his loyal—I dunno, it just doesn't really have that ring to it, y'know? Chosen King just sounds better. Maybe your dad, like, dies just before the darkness comes. Heroically, of course. Oh, oh maybe everyone in Insomnia dies too!”

The Prince of Lucis hmmed, and then nodded, as though the death of his Royal King and father was entirely acceptable, if it was heroic, and if the story needed _that ring_ to it. Also acceptable, apparently, was the annihilation of all the people who lived in his crown city. “Must there be more death in this story of yours?” Ignis sighed, “Isn't eternal darkness tragic enough?”

“It's not just a story,” Prompto repeated for what felt like the umpteenth time, “it's an RPG! And it can't just be eternal darkness. That's like, the opening scene, y'know? There's always gotta be some _personal_ tragedy so that the protag will want to go on the main quest.”

“I'd take the death of my dad pretty personally,” Noctis agreed. “I'd go questing because of it.”

“There, see? You should play more games, Iggy, you'll get it then."

“Nah, Iggy's right,” Gladio put in from the back seat, “this story doesn't need more tragedy.” Ignis had a moment to feel grateful for the sound of another sensible voice, but he really ought to have known better, seeing as this voice had also been known to extol the virtues of any fifty gil bodice-ripper he could get his hands on. “What it _really_ needs,” Gladio added sagely, “is romance.”

There was immediate uproar in the back seat as Noctis vehemently disagreed with this masterful piece of literary criticism, which devolved quickly into a petty argument about the dignity and worth of romance, and also the dignity and worth of those who indulged in reading it. Ignis couldn't help smiling at how much like an ordinary teenage boy Noctis sounded, with his scorn of all things mushy and emotional. He was well-aware that for his prince, who'd grown up more or less in the public eye, romance was a subject too often spoken of and yet too rarely actually experienced. Of course, King Regis had done his best to give him the chance to experience his youth as an ordinary teenager might have—Ignis had been fully aware of the monstrous effort required to ensure some level of both safety and privacy outside the Citadel, and to keep the paparazzi in line. Despite all that, he knew Noctis still felt keenly the nation's eyes on him, and had grown only more laconic over the years, building a stoic facade over the earnest child Ignis had once known.

That child had been prone to strong feelings and impassioned declarations, Ignis fondly remembered, and then couldn't help wondering if, underneath the terse but proper answers that Noctis always gave reporters about his relationships (or lack thereof), there was an ardent statement waiting to be made about...someone. Surely there was someone, or had been, at some point in time; Noctis must have had at least a crush before. No amount of media training could combat teenage hormones. It irked Ignis to realise that he had no idea who could have drawn his prince's eye, that he didn't even know if his prince had a type. One of the Glaive, perhaps—Astrals only knew even Ignis had seen their appeal, when he was a teenager himself. Or perhaps a schoolmate. He let his eye wander over to Prompto, who had been surprisingly quiet throughout the squabbling in the back seat.

Should he push? He'd just decided to make a leading comment about romance, seeing if he could draw something out, when Prompto blurted out, “if it's romance, then it has to be Luna.”

Ignis snapped his head over to stare. “What,” Noctis and Gladio said in unison, and then yelled as the Regalia swerved off the road. Ignis hurriedly brought her back under control with one hand, the other hand reaching out swiftly to grab Prompto by his shirt as he flailed and came dangerously close to toppling straight out the Regalia. Since Ignis only had two hands, his can of Ebony had to unfortunately go unsaved, and it toppled over, spilling its contents onto the floor. Ignis mentally added the cleaning bill for the Regalia to their budget, and after a bit of recalculating, accepted that they would not be able to stay in a motel at Taelpar. Which was a fact he would gladly explain to Prompto, when he inevitably complained about camping. Meanwhile, Prompto had one white-knuckled grip on the door, and the other hand clutched over his chest. That would teach him the importance of seat belts, Ignis thought irritably, since he seemed to have missed that lesson in kindergarten, while he was being raised by video-game obsessed _coeurls._

“Why Luna!” Noctis protested, after the Regalia was safely back on the road, and everyone had gotten over almost dying. Ignis quite agreed with the sentiment. He glanced at the rear-view mirror, and caught Gladio giving Noctis a speculative look.

“Well, love interests, you know. She's pretty, and she's your childhood friend.” Prompto made a wavy hand gesture, like what-can-you-do.

Noctis rolled his eyes, slouching a little lower in his seat, and achieved a pose of such peak teenage-boyhood that Ignis wondered why he had ever been worried about the pressures of the crown. “So what. You're pretty, and my childhood friend. And hey, so's Iggy, and Gladio.” Ignis blinked, and found himself pleasantly surprised to be included in the list of people Noctis thought of as pretty.

Prompto was also surprised, if the instantaneous blushing and stuttering were any indication. “Well, I mean, like...I mean! We can't, we can't all be your love interests! So...so, Luna! And, and she's got Tiny, and she's the Oracle, and...and Princess of Tenebrae! Tenebrae is totally far enough for a major quest object! And—”

“And she's going to kill you if she finds out you called her a quest object. Hey, maybe I'll tell her now.” Noctis whipped out his phone, and Prompto, clearly having already forgotten his recent near-death experience, made a leap towards the back seat for it, accidentally smacking Gladio in the face. The resulting commotion lasted all the way to the next haven, as it so often did.

===

“So, what's up with you?”

Gladio's voice was pitched just above a whisper, his breath warm against Ignis' ear. Ignis suppressed a shudder, and continued stirring the pot of stew determinedly. It was a new recipe he'd come up with two days ago, and he wasn't going to let some horny bugger make him ruin it. “Nothing's up,” he said, glad his voice sounded entirely unaffected. Gladio snorted, placing a hand low on Ignis' stomach, and he couldn't help his quick intake of breath. “Although if you keep going...” He felt Gladio press a smile into the sensitive juncture of his neck, and Gladio's hand ever so slowly slid lower. “Gladio, don't.”

“Those two won't come back for at least an hour. They always take ages.” Prompto and Noctis did tend to take far too long on their little photo ops, and Ignis and Gladio were often left alone at the havens for an hour or more. Ignis used to worry, but they'd always return unharmed—though often in some state of disarray—with sometimes only a single photo, but an endless supply of improbable stories about it. So they did have some time alone on their hands, which they could use however they liked.

But... “You know we have to be discreet.”

Gladio gave him a small nip, but pulled away, settling himself into one of the camp chairs. Ignis snuck a glance at him, and found his eyes drawn up the artful sprawl of Gladio's long legs all the way up to the vee of his crotch. Gladio raised his eyebrows, and Ignis hastily looked back down to the stew, hiding his reaction by taking a sip. Hmm. Maybe not enough salt. “ _You_ know those two are probably fucking right now right?” Gladio drawled. Ignis choked on his stew.

“They are not!” He spun around to glare at Gladio, who only shrugged. Then he recalled Prompto's blushing earlier, the easy way Noctis had complimented him, and the way Gladio had always been able to read people far better than he could. It was one his more irritating traits. “...are they?”

Gladio paused for far too long, before grinning. “Nah. Not yet anyway, though with how often Prompto touches Noct's royal ass, they might as well be. Bet it takes another two months, at least. Question is why that upsets you.”

“It does not.” Ignis said too quickly, and once again found himself cursing Gladio's perceptiveness. It didn't upset him, truly it didn't. Prompto was thoughtful, cheerful, and guileless. And Noctis lowered his guard in Prompto's presence the way he never had for anyone else. Ignis had fought for the two of them; he had backed Prompto's bid to join the Crownsguard, talked him up to King Regis, carefully run interference to let them spend undisturbed time together in the arcades and diners they liked to frequent. So no, there was no reason for it upset him. What was there to be upset about?

“Right, okay,” Gladio said eventually, when the silence dragged on, “never mind that. Actually, what I wanted to ask was, why're you being such a killjoy about Prompto's story?”

“It's not just a story, it's an RPG,” Ignis recited, inexplicably relieved by the change of topic, and was rewarded by Gladio's laugh.

“Hah! Right, so why did you get all disapproving about it? You're usually so indulgent of their nonsense. You know he's not actually going to make that game, right? Does he even know how to program?”

“Prompto's one of the top scorers in his class for computer science,” Ignis replied reflexively. Then, seeing Gladio's dubiously raised eyebrow, admitted, “no, that's not actually my concern.”

He put the ladle down to one side, and brought the stew down to a simmer, buying himself time to put it into words; why it sat so uncomfortably with him every time Prompto likened their road trip to a quest in a game, while simultaneously coming up with ten different ways things could go more dramatically downhill. “It just seems,” Ignis began, “well, rather unseemly, doesn't it? Death this and war that and darkness everywhere. What with...everything that has been going on.” He gestured towards Insomnia, barely a speck on the horizon, where King Regis was likely still trying to thresh out a peace treaty with Niflheim, the third such attempt in his reign now. Where the Crystal sat, drawing upon the magic of Lucis' rulers, causing King Regis to age faster than he ought to. Where Insomnia's people were still safe at night, unlike how it was out here in neutral territory where daemon attacks seemed to be cropping up with increasing boldness, if the bounties were anything to go by. Where Noctis would soon have to return to, once they were done visiting the royal tombs—ostensibly for upkeep, but really to establish a magical connection with the previous kings and, through them, the Crystal, so that he could one day shoulder the burden of the Wall.

Gladio nodded, as though he'd understood everything Ignis meant with that gesture. “There is a lot going on, nowadays,” he said, in a gross understatement. “That's why they have to come to terms with it, in their own way. Like this.”

Ignis frowned, trying to parse that statement. “Are you saying that...that all this melodrama is Prompto's way of dealing with...everything?”

Gladio leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the sky; it was never so clear in Insomnia, the stars never so bright and plentiful. “They know they have to go back,” he said at last. “Even if they're fighting to enjoy every moment they can out here. And you know Prompto, if there's one thing he can do, it's talk. And if he can say it aloud, can think up ways for it to be far worse than it actually is, and still have them come out heroes in the end, doesn't that help?”

Ignis...could see the logic behind that, actually. Damn that man and his insight. Though there was something about it that didn't quite make sense... “What about Lady Lunafreya?”

“What about her? Prompto isn't wrong, she's the Oracle, and the Princess of Tenebrae.”

Ignis was aware that he would one day be called upon to come up with a shortlist of people who could be granted the honour of Noctis' hand—or rather, the hand of the Prince of Lucis. And when that day should come, he would have to consider political expediency foremost, above things like personality and compatibility. And the Lady Lunafreya, Oracle of Tenebrae, would certainly be high on that theoretical list. Still, to think that Prompto of all people would be the first to point that out... “Wouldn't it be foolish for him to be...developing affections, then? Perhaps I should take you up on that bet of yours.”

Gladio laughed again. “Yeah, like a potential political marriage is going to stop anyone at that age from _developing affections_. Not going to change his loyalty, that's the whole point. So what do you wanna bet?”

“We're barely any older,” Ignis prevaricated. _Not going to change his loyalty_ was ringing in his head.

“Yeah, and I remember the sort of _affections_ I was _developing_ at that age. Maybe you need a reminder.” Gladio grinned, and moved to stand right in front of Ignis in a single fluid motion, hands coming down on the cooking table on either side of him and caging him in. He leaned in, and Ignis refused to lean back. Instead he held Gladio's eyes, and let his own gaze turn heated. He placed a hand on Gladio's chest, smoothing it upwards, feeling the way Gladio's nipple hardened under his touch, feeling the way his breath quickened under his palm. He let his fingers glide up Gladio's neck, curving around to that sensitive spot just behind his ear, and dug his nail in just a little to see Gladio's mouth drop open on a sharp gasp. He hoped Gladio was remembering the last time he left a mark there, the last time they'd managed to get a motel room of their own. He saw Gladio's eyes unfocus—and in one swift motion, Ignis slid a leg in between Gladio's, planted his weight, and shoved. Gladio's eyes widened comically as he was thrown backwards, though he managed to tuck himself into a roll at the last second, coming up in a crouch, one arm out as though about to summon his great sword.

“Discretion,” Ignis reminded him, and smugly turned to remove the pot of stew from the low heat, “and dinner.”

Gladio huffed, and rose gracefully to his feet, though Ignis could clearly see from the bulge in his trousers that he was in no way put off. If anything, he seemed even more turned on by that bit of resistance. Which wasn't in any way unexpected. It really had been a long few days since the last time they managed a motel.

Gladio took a step towards him, and Ignis tensed, muscles thrumming pleasantly...

And that was the sound of Prompto and Noctis returning. They both turned to look towards the sound of animated conversation, and saw Prompto and Noctis approaching the haven, already closer than Ignis expected. Prompto was waving his hands wildly as though to emphasise a point, which Ignis was sure they would all soon hear about. They were both dishevelled, and on closer inspection, also looking a little singed. Ignis let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and turned to serve up dinner.

As they all ate, he couldn't help watching Prompto and Noctis, the way they leaned into each other, the way they followed each other with their eyes when the other wasn't watching. The way Prompto regaled them all with the tall tale of whatever had happened to them this time, hamming it up to make Noctis smile. The way Noctis smiled and teased, clearly still interested in hearing a story he'd obviously been there for. It wasn't anything new, of course. But something in what Gladio said...

Still, he trusted Gladio's instincts, in this as in anything else. So later, while Noctis was distracted by Prompto cooing over the chocobos, Ignis leaned in to whisper to Gladio, “I bet they fuck in _one_ month.”

Gladio burst out laughing, and then had to endure the pestering of the other two when he refused to explain why. And since it had been a very long road trip, with spotty phone reception at best, the pestering went on for awhile, eventually devolving into playful tussling. Ignis leaned back in his chair, feeling a little like a king surveying his subjects, and despite the ruckus, felt entirely satisfied.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit welcome! Please let me know if the character voices are off, since I only played the Japanese version


End file.
